


Phase Change

by Unadulterated



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M, Marvel POC Characters Fanworks Exchange, Sleepy Tony Stark, actual house spouse tony stark, stay-at-home-mechanic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 20:19:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4362818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unadulterated/pseuds/Unadulterated
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James Rhodes' midlife crisis comes a little late, as he chooses between his legacy in the military and a new career as a superhero.</p><p>He knows what Tony thinks about answering to a star-spangled man with a plan, but that just makes it a toss-up between being a good idea or a really, really bad one.</p><p>And he and his boyfriend of over twenty years have a phase change of their own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Phase Change

**Author's Note:**

  * For [quandong_crumble](https://archiveofourown.org/users/quandong_crumble/gifts).



“I’ve been in the military my whole life,” James says aloud to no one, staring at the ceiling. Helps him think through interpersonal stuff; probably some of Tony’s constant rambling managed to rub off, if only a little. “It doesn’t make sense to just drop my career.”

Tony nuzzles James’ arm, still dead to the world. His mouth drops open and James can feel the warm breath on his bicep. On reflex, James’s other hand responds and comes around to stroke Tony’s hair. The first contact with the motor oil Tony’s managed to spread over his hair like shampoo makes James grimace and think better of it.

“What would you do if Captain America asked you to do something, you know? I mean, he’s kind of a hard guy to say no to.”

Tony murmurs a sleepy mumble. Tony is the _master_ of sleepy mumbles, and in general just doing his utmost to pretend he’s paying attention when he’s really, really not.

“What am I saying.” James rolls his eyes. “You’d do the exact opposite just to spite him. But—I mean, Captain for a reason, right? I outrank him. He’s like, twenty-five. I shouldn’t even be listening to this kid.”

Tony snuffles against his arm. Possibly waking up, then—or about to deliver a ten second, utterly incomprehensible idea for a sentient toaster or something equally ridiculous and fall dead asleep again. That happened an alarming percentage of the time.

Tony presses his face into James’ arms and opens one brown eye that peeks over James’s chest. Waking up, then. “Wuzzat?”

“Nothing,” James says. Tony’s the rambler. James’ rambles, those are just for him and the empty air. “Now go back to sleep or get up with me.” He sits up and almost gets dragged back down by Tony’s grabby hands. “I’m not going back to bed, Tony,” he says patiently. “Some of us actually went to bed at a decent hour last night.”

Tony mumbles something into James’ side that’s largely unintelligible, but James has been translating Tony for long enough that he’s pretty sure it’s something about making James go to bed at a thoroughly _in_ decent hour tomorrow through the means of equally indecent acts. James is not about to complain, there. Still, he rolls his eyes and carefully breaks Tony’s grip, giving him a quick kiss to the hair for his trouble.

Which he’s managed to forget in the space of a minute is coated in motor oil. James wrinkles his nose. “And take a shower when you get up, babe, you need it.”

Tony wrinkles his own nose. “Mean,” he huffs, grumpily. “Demanding recompense. Real kiss.”

He puckers his lips and flutters his eyelashes. Zero to annoyingly endearing in approximately forty-five seconds. God, James loves this dork.

But Tony’s morning breath is possibly more deadly than the motor oil, so James only pecks him on the forehead before standing up and walking away from the bed. Tony whines, but James only smiles; he’ll be asleep again before James finishes his shower.

Tony probably wouldn’t want James taking Captain America up on that offer to join the Avengers, not when he’d quit so recently. James just isn’t sure whether that means it would be a good idea or a really, really bad one.

 

—§§§—

 

“Crazy day, huh?” Sam says from the other side of the couch, one arm thrown up over the back and the other dangling down by the floor.

James might not be ready to commit, but a trial run can’t hurt, and he’s been flying with the Avengers all day, practicing maneuvers and seeing how well this new lineup works together.

The answer is _surprisingly well_.

Still, now James is sprawled on the same couch as Sam—not from exhaustion. More from the buzzing of his adrenaline rush in his head.

“I’m starting to think most of the crazy around here is in all the people,” James tells him. It’s the best kind of crazy, luckily, but James isn’t going to say that aloud. He’s got a reputation he’d like to keep pristine until he actually knows if he’s going down with the rest of these weirdos or not.

Sam snorts. “Yeah. From a psychological stance it must be kind of fascinating, but there is no way I’m psychoanalyzing a bunch of superheroes.”

James grins at the ceiling, then lifts his head just enough to see Sam’s face. “That’s probably best for your sanity’s sake.”

“Sure is. Are you still thinking about whether to join up?”

“Yeah,” James says slowly. “Still a couple reservations.”

“Like what?”

That’s the sixty-four thousand dollar question, isn’t it. James sucks in a breath between his teeth. “Sure you’re not trying to be my therapist here?”

“Pretty sure,” Sam says, and yeah, that’s a grin.

“Well.” There’s the whole Tony thing, but more likely than not that’s going to solve itself. Really, it’s just—“I guess you didn’t really know JARVIS before the whole thing with Ultron went down.”

“Heard him,” Sam offers. “Met him, I guess. But not really. He got transformed into Vision or something, didn’t he? So isn’t Vision basically him?”

“No,” James says immediately. “They’re—different. Trust me when I say a voice and some coding doesn’t mean they’re the _same_. When Tony made JARVIS, he made a _person_ , and that person got very changed when they stuck him in the body Ultron was making.”

God, it felt surreal to even talk about.

Sam is giving him a really, really long look. James isn’t a hundred percent sure he’s managed to avoid psychoanalyzing _that_. “So, just—seeing if I got this. The team is weird because Vision is the Frankensteined version of your best friend’s kid? So like, your honorary nephew?”

James considers that for a moment. All in all it’s a pretty succinct explanation that captures the unsettling feeling of hearing Vision speak with JARVIS’s voice, but—“More like step-son,” James corrects him.

Same’s eyebrows fly up and he gives James a baffled look. “You—“

“Yeah,” James says.

Sam starts laughing, but that’s a fairly reasonable reaction, seeing as it’s _Tony Stark_.

 

—§§§—

 

Tony is passed out again when James gets home—or maybe _still_ passed out. It’s hard to tell with the schedule Tony keeps. But when James sits on the edge of the bed, debating whether to wake him up or not, Tony blinks awake as the dip of the mattress tips him toward James.

“Did I just sleep all day again?” Tony says mussily. “Or did you realize that leaving me alone was an awful thing to do and came back to remind me you love me.”

James smiles at him and Tony wrinkles his nose back. Shows the thanks he gets.

“Well?”

“I was out practicing with the new Avengers lineup.”

Tony squints at him, but apparently he hasn’t quite woken up enough to grasp the full meaning of that. “Why?”

And this is where he’s got to tell Tony somehow. “If Captain America asked you to do something, what you you do?”

“Not that,” Tony says immediately, propping himself up on his elbows. “Unless I was already planning on doing it, then I might still do it. But I’d make sure everyone knew I was already doing it. Can’t have me reputation besmirched by subordination like that.”

Sometimes, James wouldn’t actually mind being wrong about Tony. But maybe it’s a good thing they know each other so well. “So hypothetically, if _he_ were the one that asked you to join the Avengers—“

“Fury asked me and I still almost isn’t join, babe,” Tony sniffs.

James grins. “Right. It’s not like you were moping after the first time he turned you down, or anything.”

Tony head-butts his ribs. Gently, which, considering how hard-headed he can be, is probably good for James’ ribs. “I did not mope,” he grumbles.

James takes a breath. “Captain America asked me to join the Avengers.”

Tony pushes himself up on his hands and stares at him with narrowed eyes like some kind of disgruntled seal. “You’re thinking of accepting,” he accuses.

“Are you really that surprised?”

Tony stares at him for another long moment. Then, in a flurry of movement, he pushes himself up to a sitting position and somehow escapes the sheets he’s had wound around his person all day. “Fine,” he says flippantly, and it’s very clear that it is _not_ fine. “You go off and be an Avenger. I’ll stay here, waiting for you like a good housewife and fainting nightly over the danger you’re in—“

James rolls his eyes and Settles back so he can actually look at Tony again. “You’ve been an Avenger for _three years_ , Tones. I fail to see how this is any different from that.”

“ _I’m_ not an Avenger now,” he says, like that’s supposed to be the obvious reason.

And maybe it is. Nothing James hasn’t expected, except maybe—“Housewife?” he echoes, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Devoted stay-at-home mechanic, maybe.”

Tony huffs loudly at him, but that doesn’t help to hide the slight flush to his face. “The children, Rhodey! I am here with the robot children, which makes me—“

“A stay-at-home mechanic, which I _said_ —“

“A _housewife_.”

They stare at each other. Tony looks ready to out-stubborn a rhinoceros. James is mostly just along for the ride.

“I’m pretty sure you need to be female to qualify as a wife,” James finally says.

Tony blows a raspberry at him like the mature adult he is and gets up to pace the room with his usual frantic energy. “I’m basically your housewife, Rhodey. Just. You know, a guy. There should be a term for that. This is discrimination against males everywhere.”

“Mr. Mom?” James suggests. He shakes his head. This is so far off on tangent he’s not entirely sure how they got here. “Look, Tones. All I wanted was to give you a heads up so you could think about this before I make my choice. Because I haven’t actually made one yet—“

Tony snaps his fingers. “House spouse,” he announces.

James closes his eyes, taps his fingers on the bedspread, and prays for patience. “Tony.”

“What! It’s gender neutral. And it _rhymes_.”

They are never going to finish this conversation. That’s probably what Tony wants, though, so James is going to keep trying if only to foil his evil plot. And he can be patient, even when Tony’s being an ass, that’s practically his _specialty_. “That’s great,” he says. He hopes he only sounds mildly sarcastic. “Except for, you know, the distinct lack of spouses in our relationship.”

Tony stops pacing, turns to look at him, and wrinkles his nose again—this time he’s got that little head tilt that says _come on, you’re smarter than this_. “Well, that’s easy enough to fix.”

James blinks and stares and gives himself several seconds to try to catch up to the conversation, because Tony is always rambling, right up until he _isn’t_. “Did you just… propose to me?”

Tony shrugs. “Maybe. Kinda depends on if you say yes.”

But James isn’t convinced of the flippancy, with Tony watching him so intently; an uncertain Tony is a Tony who doesn’t stop talking. And he’s looking at a Tony who absolutely meant to ask _right now_.

During a conversation that started two seconds after he woke up and was blossoming into a petty disagreement at the least.

His boyfriend—fiancé?—is _so weird_.

“I’ll be honest, I expected more skywriting and dinners in Paris,” James says, stalling for time, because he doesn’t do spur-of-the-moment like Tony does. He’s pretty sure _no one_ does spur-of-the-moment like Tony. “Maybe a ring made entirely out of diamond.”

“You’d never wear it,” Tony says immediately.

“You know me too well,” James deadpans, and it’s only remotely funny because he actually does.

“That’s the point,” Tony says. “Isn’t it? Because none of that—we’ve been together for too long for any of that to mean more than any of—“ He waves his hand, somehow encompassing the whole room, the two of them inside it. “This.”

Waking up to each other’s sleepy faces and morning breath. Coming home in the evening, after a long day of taking to the sky, eventually circling back around to the place they both call home.

James’ eyebrows are creeping up his forehead. Practically of their own volition, because he didn’t tell them to do that. It isn’t skepticism or anything, he’s just—when Tony is actually being emotionally aware, it tends to be a lot to take in. “But you still have to ask?” he says quietly.

Tony shrugs again, and this one actually means exactly what it looks like: a little helpless, the perfect baffled match to the sardonic smirk twisting its way onto his face. “I guess we’ve been together too long for that, too. Someone’s just gotta say it.”

They could love each other for a thousand years, James realizes, and they’d be dancing this same old tune until someone just asked the question.

And until someone answered it.

“Yes, Tony, I’ll marry you.”

James gets a lapful of maniacally grinning fiancé as a thanks, and even though Tony probably still kind of has morning breath that’s only worsened on its way to evening, James holds onto him like a lifeline and accepts the kiss gladly.

 

—§§§—

 

Natasha materializes at his elbow out of nowhere and James has no way of knowing how long she’s been there or where she came from. He manfully represses his reaction when notices her presence, but there’s no way she doesn’t notice the quick breath, the pause, and the thick swallow.

He’s not scared of her, honestly, but he’s intimidated by her, healthily so—as in, he’s pretty sure he’s intimidated enough to keep him at the proper distance for staying healthy and not missing his liver or a few kidneys when he wakes up in the morning.

She doesn’t greet him before she speaks: “Is your issue with your Frankensteined robot step-son going to be a problem for the team?”

James misses a step in his gait and almost trips. He turns it into more of a stutter and manages to keep a polite distance between himself and the shiny new floors of Avengers HQ. He’ll have plenty of time to meet them up close later. “You were listening to that?” he says sharply.

Natasha doesn’t answer. She’s standing in that awkward spot at his shoulder where he has to turn his head all the way to the side to see her, making it impossible to glance at her casually, but when James mentally sighs and just looks, she’s smirking.

That doesn’t actually answer his question, but James is pretty sure Sam wouldn’t have told her. “It’ll be fine.”

Natasha nods sharply, once, and James is watching the room in front of him out of the corner of his eye because he’s more interested in making sure he doesn’t miss any of the tells Natasha is letting him see. He doesn’t understand her game, but he can follow the rules she’s silently written out just fine.

“That’s good. Can’t have a lack of unity among us.”

“Of course not,” James says, and waits, because Natasha doesn’t waste words.

Her smirk tilts up at a sharper angle. “So when’s the wedding?”

Maybe James just isn’t paying enough attention to what’s in front of him, because he nearly walks into a wall. That’s his story and he’s sticking to it.

“What,” he says, but he stares at Natasha—stopped, this time, because his likelihood of running into something goes down exponentially if he’s not actually moving—and she stares back at him.

She’s doing that little smile, the one that shouldn’t look creepy and mostly doesn’t, but just screams that _I know your secrets and want you to know I know your secrets,_ which is a little complicated for a smile, but Natasha manages just fine.

James decides he does not _even_ want to know. “We haven’t set a date yet,” he says slowly.

Natasha sniffs regally. “Fine. Just keep in mind, if I’m not on the invite list I’m shanking someone.”

James believes her. But he also notices that she doesn’t specify who she’s planning to shank.

 

—§§§—

 

“With our luck,” Tony says, “You’re going to get called away to save the world on our wedding day.”

James doesn’t smirk, but the corner of his mouth lifts, just a little. It’s not funny, exactly, but Tony’s griping only ever shows up when he’s the one being left behind, like he isn’t _used_ to it by now.

James isn’t in the military anymore, so it’s someone different pulling him away now. He doesn’t know if that makes it better or worse.

“Our luck isn’t _that_ bad,” James rationalizes. It can’t be, since Tony’s still alive, still pouting at him as James suits up to fly off.

Tony rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Just—be careful. Can’t lose by fiancé before he’s even got the chance to be my hubby. And I fix your suit, no one else. And—“

“Tones, hey,” James says, just soft enough to make Tony actually look at his face again. “They’re just getting my guns, okay? And those are pretty awesome. But you’re the one who’s got my heart.”

Tony scowls, and it better not be because that was too sappy, because if anything, Tony can be _worse_. “Guess which muscle’s bigger,” he grumps.

“Guess which one works harder?” James retorts. “And guess which one’s always going to win?”

Tony smiles at him, one of those little ones that makes Tony look away, because he doesn’t mean to do it—a _real_ one that’s miles away from the grin Tony wears outside of just the two of them.

“You come home to your house spouse, now,” Tony scolds him, mock-serious. “The kids miss you already.”

The last piece locks into place on the War Machine suit—grey again, none of this red-white-and-blue decoration; God knows they’ve already got Cap for that—and James steps forward, making Tony look up in order to still meet his eyes.

“Still not a spouse, yet,” James teases him.

Tony rolls his eyes and hooks a finger around the jutting chin of his helmet and pulls him down for a kiss. James comes up grinning, Tony smirking.

“I’ll still do that,” James assures him. “I start missing your face after too long.”

“It is an amazing face,” Tony agrees.

James kisses him again, just on the cheek, and with Tony’s eyes still watching him he steps out onto the landing strip and takes off into the sky.


End file.
